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Written on the day Moto GP rider Marco Simoncelli was killed on the racetrack at Sepang in October 2011 and published online by Poetry 24, I posted it here recently then deleted it to ensure that two related posts sat together.  I'm glad I did, as today's Moto GP from the recently renamed  Misano World Circuit Marco Simoncelli is a perfect excuse for reposting:




Marco, 

you were beautiful, graced
the race track with 
your slender, leathered
figure, the interviews with
your shyly smiling face, 
your hair a scribbled
signature
to tell the world you
wanted to stand out,
and so you did.

Outstanding for
the life in you, the
drive and verve and
energy as every 
nerve and sinew relished
every single minute
of your
too short
existence.

Goodbye.
I never met you, yet
I’ll miss you.

God bless you.




 

.........I did this

I stumbled in to 'Robin Hood and the Giant' by accident (it started with a poor joke on facebook; I told David Calcutt, playwright extraordinaire, that I could play a man dressed as a woman).True to form I then gave it a full half second of careful consideration before jumping in with both feet. One Sunday I was in Bloxwich at the Bookmark Library Theatre to meet other fools cast members, the next I heard the ominous words "we have to put a frying pan in that woman's hand", spoken by the play's director, Glen Buglass.
Let me just explain a little for those who are still not aware: this was the first of four 'mumming' plays being written by David Calcutt, playwright extraordinaire, to be performed in Walsall town centre and to reintroduce the medieval tradition of street theatre.
Rehearsing twice a week was a push, as was learning lines, but I'd decided to try something new (I think you should have at least one completely new experience each year, preferably more) and it was fun too! The rest of the cast were just brilliant- lovely people, great characters, all with skills and talents to complement each other, all good company. Some only turned up to make props (one just came to collect his dancer daughter!) but were soon roped in to play, sing or act.
The script was already funny but David, Glen and the cast made it even more so with inventive ideas and suggestions. And the frying pan? An essential prop for Maid Marian, but not for some wispy fair maiden (or they couldn't have cast me!) but a battleaxe from Wednesbury who brings Robin back from the dead with the power of her voice. It was an honour to be given a 'meaty' role, even though I had to rest my poor vocal chords for a couple of days afterwards.
Rehearsals all done, we turned up at The Black Country Arms on Saturday 25th August and got ready for the first of three performances. Despite the rain we had a marvellous time, playing to over 500 people including the Mayor.

It was all over too soon really: an experience, a laugh, a challenge, an achievement- a blast. Over for me, anyway, for the time being, due to other commitments. As I said at the start David Calcutt, playwright extraordinaire, is writing more of these wonderful extravaganzas and it's not too late to be involved. Get in touch at the Bayard's Colts website- that name and the background is explained there too- and tell Glen that you too would like to join 'Odd People doing Daft Things in a Strange Place'. Many of that wonderful cast are in the next one, 'The Alchemist and the Devil', so go on, give it a go and have a great time.

The link is in the blogpost called Next... along with links to photos of the event............
Oh ok, here's one to be getting on with:

Next......

........ I shall blog about my amazing experience of becoming a mummer. 
No, not a mummy! "Listen up, you rabblesome host!"
A MUMMER. In a mumming play. In Walsall. 

Look- here:

http://www.bayardscolts.org.uk/

and here:

bit.ly/PJpsTF

......but first, a nice long bath..........

The End

To be expanded upon, but a big sigh of relief for now that the Junction Project is done and went well, and an expression of puzzlement that for some reason the Friday poem, #28, reverted to being a draft after it was posted tweeted and shared so it appears on the blog out of order. However, given its nature perhaps it's fitting. Big thanks to everyone, you will be listed later, after I've had  a long soak in a hot bath!

 26 Aug 2012: update

Well, three weeks later......... that was a hell of a long bath.......

Thank you to Matt, Elena, Helen and Claire for help and encouragement. Special mentions to staff at Bella and High Town Art Shop for loan of steps, and to Billy Howe for help with local history. Alex at Puff in Peace (49A, electronic cigarette shop) provided a coffee and a chat when I needed it most- he's lovely so if you're trying to give up tobacco and want a cheaper alternative go and see him.
Thanks also to Glenn Morris at WCR (101.8fm) for letting me be his 'resident poet' for four weeks on the Friday Drive programme.
This was a great project, it was a bit manic as it was so multi-faceted but I had good people cheering me on and giving encouraging feedback (Take a bow Roger Noons, Anne Hastings, David Calcutt, Eileen Ward Birch and lots of family including some splendid detective work from Deidre Arblaster). I sometimes thought I'd bitten off more than I could chew and I probably did, but d'you know what? I CHEWED IT!
Now looking forward to the CD of the festival with some excellent musicians (and a bit of poetry). I'll post links on blog when it's done.
Now this is sounding like a bloody Oscars speech so I'll bugger off before anyone throws up..... 

Chapel Ash # 28

My place, my territory, my comfort zone,

my neighbourhood, the place I call my home, 

my community, my patch, 

my beating heart, 

my Chapel Ash

Chapel Ash # 30

The heart thought it and 

the brain saw it, although 

it didn’t exist. The hands asked, 

“Is it like this?” then made it 

their own way, anyway.

Chapel Ash # 29

Stop the horses gallop, look! 

Chairs balanced buildings rubbed 

tethered balls envy bubbles 

the pink haired doctor nods. 

A sign of the times.

Chapel Ash # 27

The daleks, dressed as floral 

decorations, advanced, to bump 

into a most unlikely foe, 

a saviour-robot-in-disguise, 

one vintage petrol pump.

Chapel Ash # 26

To carry, move: a place to choose conveyances; 

start or end of journeys short or long.  

To carry away by strong emotion: 

transport of delight 

Chapel Ash # 25

With Pills and Potions, 

Medications, 

Salves and Lotions, 

Embrocations, 

seeking out the best location 

Jesse’s brand arrived 

in Wolverhampton.

Chapel Ash # 24

Lord, guide my feet at the end of the street,

is it heaven or is it hell? 

Seeking salvation down on my knees

or will I be saved by the Bell?

Chapel Ash # 23

Ay up! The gaffers are on their way, 

there can be no mishap, 

for we’ll all have bloody hell to pay 

if the beer’s no good in the Brewery Tap!

Chapel Ash # 22

Fibres float, framed 
in sun’s bitter infiltration, 
settle

insignificant, silently 
insinuate, unsettle 

each 

labourer’s 

poor 

belaboured 

breath

Chapel Ash # 21

Amorous? Us? No Officer, I swear 

we were just waiting 

for the bus. 

Her hands? Down there? 

Honest, she was 

helping me, searching 

for my fare!

Chapel Ash # 20

What spell has relocated oil and gouache?

Drawn charcoal pencils here to Chapel Ash?

Kept the wrongtown sign, 

confusing people as they pass?

Chapel Ash # 19

The shanty town of shrubs will go, give way to 

aisles of produce that serve a different taste,

not nettle nursery food and a buddleia buffet

Chapel Ash # 18

Low Rider, Easy Rider? old school hardtail, 

Softail, Sportster, retro Road King, 

Sharknose Touring, 

Ultimate Electra Glide 

always...in Blue